


Laughing

by fallenAngel161



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: I can't believe I wrote something happy, One Shot, Terrible Jokes, kinda platonic, laughing, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 10:35:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11667372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallenAngel161/pseuds/fallenAngel161
Summary: You miss the way Cassian used to laugh.





	Laughing

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go, an attempt at a happy story. Hope you guys enjoy!  
> Check out the notes at the end!!

Cassian Andor had the cutest laugh in the entire galaxy. Crinkles would form around his eyes and his face would light up. His laugh was deep and gruff; he laughed with his whole body. But the thing you loved most about his laugh was his eyes. The way they shined and teared up a little when he’s laughing so hard that he couldn’t breathe. You loved Cassian’s laugh, and he loved to laugh. At least he used to.

The thing about the rebellion is that it takes a toll. For everything Cassian gave it, it took more and more. The rebellion was eating away at everything Cassian was and he was fully prepared to let it destroy him. You had been in the rebellion for many years so you knew the fee for fighting. Friends died; hope was lost. You saw Cassian take hit after hit after hit and get up every time. His friends died yet he would go out and continue to fight. He faced death more times than you could count yet he always came back. Cassian’s sense of humor faded until one day while you were talking to him a horrible realization came to mind.

You had forgotten the sound of his laugh, the way his face lit up, and, worst of all, the way his eyes shined. You fall silent mid-conversation, feeling sick. He stops talking and looks at you in confusion.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You examine the hard lines of his face.  There was a frown etched into his features that never seemed to go away. You sigh, “You worry too much, Cassian.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you remember when we used to laugh and tell jokes instead of debate which attack plan has the least casualties?”

Cassian’s eyes focus behind you as he recalls those memories. “We were younger then. Lives didn’t hang in the balance when we wasted time with jokes.” Over the years in the rebellion, both of you had risen in the ranks. Every step up the ladder took something from you.

“Those days are behind us, I guess,” You mumble. He nods and you drop the subject. The conversation continues on, planning for an upcoming attack. You debate which direction the starfighters should come from to avoid getting shot down. Then you debate where the ground troops should attempt to infiltrate (no, not that way, there’s no cover there. Hundreds will die). Not once during this dire conversation does Cassian attempt to lighten the mood. He considers the outcome and makes a decision, with as little hassle as possible. It’s kind of terrifying. He leaves to present the plan to Mon Mothma. You watch him go.

The plan goes through and before you know it, everyone is preparing. A day is chosen for the attack and it quickly approaches. You see Cassian only to plan. His stern eyes and cold attitude makes you think sometimes that he really doesn’t care, but you’ll catch him gazing at the other rebels as though he is trying to memorize everything that’s happening. The first time to see him doing this you think he’s simply making sure everyone is doing their jobs but then you realize he reluctance to move away and continue on. He knows not everyone will survive, so he’s capturing every moment. It breaks your heart.

The night before the attack, you’re alone in your room. You’re sitting crisscrossed on the floor with a collection of photos in front of you. Each one is of someone you lost. This happened every night before a dangerous mission. It wasn’t intentional but the worrying and nervousness always brought you to the box full of photographs. You stare at each one in turn, silently promising to make them proud.

There’s a knock at your door and you scramble to put the pictures back and push the box back under your bed. You stand and open the door and lo and behold Cassian is standing there.

“Oh, hi, Cassian. Come on in.” You step to the side to let him enter and close the door behind him. You figure he’s there to go over plans or something. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“What’s up?” You sit on your bed and look up at him.

“Um, I just wanted to come by and…” He trails off, looking for the words.

You frown, “What’s wrong, Cassian?”

He sighs, “I just… have a feeling…” Again, he goes quiet as words fail him but he doesn’t need to say anything more. You knew what he meant. About a year ago, Cassian had mentioned having a ‘feeling’ the night before a mission. He’d brushed it off as nerves. However, during the mission things went awry when an unexpected group of storm troops showed up and most of rebels involved were killed. Cassian barely escaped with his life and spent three months recovering from his wounds.

“It’s not too late to call off the mission,” you say, hoping to calm him.

He shakes her head. “Yes it is. One person’s gut feeling isn’t important enough to put off the plan that they’ve been working on for months.”

“Maybe the plan needs to be changed?”

He waves his hand, as if dismissing the subject. He paces around the room in a small circle. You sit on the bed and look up at him. “Cassian, if it’s really bothering you…”

He sits next to you. You can see his hand fidgeting, though he tries to hide it. “You’re right,” he says.

“Yeah. Mon Mothma will understand.”

“No, I mean about earlier. We don’t laugh and tell jokes like we used to.”

You tilt your head at him. Why, now, did he suddenly care about that? Now was a time to be focused on what was going on tomorrow and what they could do to make sure the feeling he had was wrong. You needed to be thinking about other people’s lives not… A distraction, you realize, that’s what he wants.

“I don’t know. I usually just relayed jokes I’d heard other people say. I’m not very original,” you say.

“Come on. Try.” He nudges you.

You sigh, “Uh, ok, ummm, why did the chicken cross the road?”

“Why?”

“To get to the other side.”

He makes a sound halfway between a sigh and chuckle. “That wasn’t even that funny.”

“But you laughed,” You point out, a grin coming across your face.

“Did I?”  

You shrug. “Why did the chicken cross the road?” you ask again.

“Why?”

“To get to the other side. Come on we’ve been over this, you should know.”

He smiles.

“Why did the chicken cross the road?” you ask for a third time.

“To get to the other side,” he says.

“No! All his friends are over there.”

He laughs, “That’s pretty bad.”

You also laugh, “Yeah. You tell one.”

He shakes his head. “I could never deliver them right.”

“Come on. Try.” You copy his tone and nudge him.

He thinks for a couple seconds. “Ok, um, the past, present, and future walk into a bar… Things get a little tense.”

You laugh, “That is _awful_.”

Grinning, he says, “I know. I think you told me that one.”

“Probably,” You start laughing and soon he is also laughing. You see the familiar crinkle around his eyes and a genuine smile on his lips. It feels so good to see that side of him again after all this time. You almost jump up from the bed when you recall the time telling that joke. “I remember! You were laughing so hard you fell out of your chair!”

“Almost! I _almost_ fell out, I stopped myself.”

“Either way, it was pretty ungraceful.”

“It’s not even that funny!” Cassian exclaims, though he keeps laughing. He’s right. You know that but for some reason with him there it was so much easier to laugh at lame jokes. You weren’t happy because you were telling jokes again, you were happy because he was laughing again. As he’s laughing he reaches out and places his hand on your arm. He doesn’t even seem to realize it. “Tell another one.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, trying to recall a joke you’d heard years ago. “Ok, here’s a bad one: A patient comes into the infirmary looking sick and asks that doctor, ‘Flu?’   
  
The doctor says, ‘No, I walked here actually!’”

Cassian’s eyes light up and soon both of you are laughing hysterically. The sound of his laughter seems to lighten the room. His eyes focus on you and he wipes a tear away. “You are terrible at telling jokes,” he says.

“But you laugh every time.”

His eyes shine as he looks at you and as you look back at him you memorize every aspect of his face; you imprint the image of him laughing into your brain. You won’t forget this time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comment! I am open to requests!
> 
> I am planning on writing some fic for other fandoms. I'm considering Baby Driver because I just saw the movie and it was freaking awesome. Others may include: Criminal Minds, Supernatural, and Mad Max  
> So, if you like any of these fandoms or you have one to suggust I'd like to hear it!


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